Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
by lizardwriter
Summary: "She remembers the last time she saw her down to the very last second..." Read on to find out ;  Just a oneshot. Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters.


**A/N: This was just a oneshot idea that came to me this afternoon. It's unbeta'd although the lovely whyyesitscar was kind enough to give it quick read through to ease my mind on pace and flow, so thank you, Car. :D** **Thanks to Ladyhawk1709 for her early input as well. :)**

**Dedicated to vangoghgurrl – hope this helps improve your week, or at least your Monday, and to coolbeans17 – hope this helps distract you from things weighing too heavily on your mind :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters.**

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She remembers the last time she saw her down to the very last second.

They hadn't said good bye. Not properly.

She remembers the words used instead...their last words to each other.

"The timing seems to be against us."

"I guess some things just aren't meant to be."

Their unspoken "I'm sorrys" resounded in their eyes.

.

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She looks different, now, in a lot of ways.

Her hair's darker, more muted. Her sense is of dress more grown up, more put together. Her eyes...Well, her eyes...

She guesses that she looks the same in some important ways, too.

.

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"I wasn't – It's good – You look good," she manages after a few false starts.

Her smile's genuine, her eyes surprised.

"You, too."

"How long's it –"

"Almost four years."

Politeness made her inquire, she knows. Self-preservation kept her reply vague.

.

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She knows to the day. Three years and two hundred and fifty-three days. That's how long it's been.

She buried all these emotions and thoughts years ago, but she's never forgotten them.

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"What are you up to these days?"

It shouldn't be so painful that they have to ask, but it is, and she can hear the strain in her own voice as she replies.

"I'm a small time journalist. Just a local paper. Lots of fluff pieces, really, but trying to break in to real news. You?"

She catches the sadness that flashes in her eyes. She knows it's because she had no idea. She wouldn't have guessed. Journalism is a new interest. Well, a post _her_ interest.

"I work at a nursery school in Cricklewood. I hang out with four-year-olds all day."

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Her eyes smile when she mentions the children.

She always wanted some of her own some day. Adoption, IVF...she'd listed options at one point on a sunny day years ago when dreams of the future had been just that.

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"Any of your own?" The question is out before she can think better of it, immediately wishing that words could be taken back once said.

They can't, and the shy smile and curious eyes that accompany the "No" in reply make her already pounding heart flutter.

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They settle in a corner. She's late for a meeting, but sometimes some things are more important.

Life doesn't throw many opportunities like this at one's feet.

Besides, it seems there's a lot of catching up to do.

.

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"How's Katie?"

Emily chuckles, then. "Still Katie."

"Well, wouldn't really want her to change, now, would we?" she replies, letting a smirk creep across her features as memories flood back. It's funny how even the bad has turned into a nostalgic kind of good. A fondness has formed in the years in between.

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Long sips of coffee fill the silences that never used to come up between them.

Her eyes flit to Emily's face frequently, studying the subtle changes, searching out anything that's a sign of the time in between.

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"How's Gina?"

It's Naomi's turn to chuckle. "Still Gina."

Emily smiles back. "Good. We wouldn't want her to change, either. Someone has to keep the forces of injustice in line."

She knows Emily's sincere. Her mum and Emily always did get along, even when she didn't always understand why.

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She catches Emily watching her, brown eyes focused from where they're peering over the rim of her coffee cup.

She smiles, shyly as Emily looks away.

She doesn't have to see it to know that they're both blushing.

Some things just don't change that much.

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She's full out missed the meeting now, but she just can't bring herself to leave Emily's company.

They've long ago left the cafe to wander city streets that take them nowhere but on a walk down memory lane.

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"Got to get home soon?" she suggests, unable to walk away first. She's been putting off asking, but the drizzle that's been falling around them is turning more into a steady rain.

"Not really," she replies.

Naomi glances at her and sees her watching her with a shy smile.

It's a look she hasn't seen in years. A look she never anticipated that she'd see again.

"You? Got somewhere to be?"

"Nowhere," she lies.

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They end up at a pub that's only two streets over from Naomi's flat.

She doesn't mention that fact. She has no reason to.

(It might be construed as presumptuous if she did.)

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"When did you switch to sour apple martini's?" The question's not meant to sound quite so accusatory, but somehow it does.

"Can't drink cheap vodka without mixers or chasers forever," Emily quips, but there's an edge in her voice and a knowing gleam in her eyes.

Naomi fumbles for a response, but words have never failed her more.

(Well, maybe once.)

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"I can't believe you actually said that!" Emily's laughter still sounds light and musical.

She can only laugh along with her as her heart pounds a little faster in her chest. "I couldn't not. Stupid wanker. Though it probably explains why I'm stuck interviewing people about the local garden competitions."

Emily's hand is covering her mouth as she laughs again, her cheeks bright red.

She didn't realise she'd missed the sight (let alone so much) until that moment.

"Probably," Emily finally gets out before breathing in a heaving breath and dissolving into a fit of giggles once more.

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"Okay, that might actually be the most adorable thing I've ever heard. And I once had to write an article titled 'Hampstead's Ten Cutest Puppies'."

"Some quality reporting that was, I bet," she replies, her eyes dancing cheekily.

The jab feels familiar and exciting all at once.

"Oh, completely," she agrees.

"Well, Jude's one of the most adorable kids I've ever had, so I'm not surprised he beat the puppies."

Naomi's thinks perhaps it's the story teller that's swayed her.

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"You love it, don't you?" it's more a statement than a question and it just slips out.

Emily pauses in the middle of her story and her warm brown eyes look up, a smile curling up the corners of her lips. "Yeah. I really do," she replies.

"Good," Naomi says, unsure if she's ever meant something more.

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"I'm this way," Naomi nods down the street, finding the familiar surroundings suddenly uninviting.

"Bus stop's that way," Emily gestures in the other direction.

"Guess I should let you go, then." She doesn't turn or move away, despite her words. She can't force her feet to move.

Emily nods. "Probably," she agrees.

.

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When their lips meet a moment later, she honestly doesn't know which one of them made the move.

She doesn't care as long as Emily's lips never leave hers.

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"You never said you lived close."

The comment is gasped between kisses.

"Didn't come up," Naomi mumbles in reply, capturing her lips once more.

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It takes all of her focus to keep her hands from trailing up and down Emily's sides long enough to fumble with her keys in the door to let them inside.

Her focus drains away when she looks up to find Emily, flushed, breathing heavily, eyes alight, lips pink and a little swollen already, standing in her living room. She's never looked more beautiful.

.

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She hasn't felt like this in years. She's had girlfriends and lovers, but none have ever collapsed her brain like this. None have ever made her so physically incapable of keeping her hands to herself.

Not a single one has ever made her _feel_ this fucking much by doing so fucking little.

.

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She doesn't have time to wish that she'd bothered getting a new couch so that the one broken spring wasn't sticking into her lower back.

She doesn't have time to wish for anything. Not when everything she hadn't realised she'd been wishing for all along was happening in front of her.

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Emily comes, head draped over the arm of her couch, back arched, thin sheen of sweat over her pert breasts and taught stomach, clenching around her fingers.

Naomi can't take her eyes off of her.

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Naomi comes with her whole back arched off the side of her bed, her fingers tangled in red hair, and Emily's name on her lips.

She searches out Emily's eyes with her own mere moments later.

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"I'm single," Emily murmurs, her breath hot against Naomi's chest.

"I'm glad to hear it," she replies, feeling a sharp constriction in her chest at the very idea that she might not have been.

A poke in the side a moment later prompts her to add, "I am, too."

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Naomi breathes in the sweet, fruity scent of Emily's hair (mulberries, she recognises, same as it used to smell), letting it relax her, almost forgetting that they'd been talking.

Emily's voice is husky, but nervous when she says, "So, the timing's right this time."

It's not a question, but it almost sounds like one, so Naomi nods in response, feeling a spark of something she didn't know she'd given up on flare up inside her.

She tugs on Emily's hand, propelling her up so she can better look into her face.

"Guess some things are just meant to be," she says, before kissing Emily so tenderly on the lips there's no question as to what she means.

Their unspoken "I love yous" resound in their eyes.


End file.
